Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 205 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 205: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Old Rory, Page 187 This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "Old Rory." The text recounts dramatic scenes featuring a character named Rory (apparently Major or Colonel McIntosh), including a confrontation at a fort where he refuses to surrender to rebel forces, an escape from French soldiers, and a dinner scene where he delivers florid toasts in Scottish dialect. The narrative celebrates Rory's proud bearing and colorful speech, with supporting characters and observers praising his character. The page ends mid-sentence with Rory directing a servant.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Op Rory 187 “His friends could not restrain him. Claymore in hand, followed by his faithful black, he approached the fort, roaring out: “Surrender, you miscreants! How dare you presume to resist His Majesty’s arms?’ Captain McIntosh — the Rebel — knew him; forbade any firing; threw open the gate, and said, “Walk in, Major McIntosh, and take possession.’ “I will not trust myself among such vermin,’ says Rory. ‘I order you to surrender.’ A rifle was fired. The ball passed under his eye. He fell backward, but im- mediately recovered. Face to the foe, he retreated, flour- ishing his sword. Several shots followed. The negro implored him to fly. ‘Run, massa! —dee kill you.’ Says Rory: “Run, poor slave? Thou mayst run. I come of a race that never runs!’”’ “Bravo, McIntosh!” “When the French surrounded the home of Robert Baillie at Thunderbolt, Rory escaped by dropping out of a window. ‘Like a raccoon, sir. To my disgrace, sir,’ he swore. ‘But what grieves me Is that I had to leave behind me the dagger of my ancestors.’”’ “What a pity Cervantes missed Roderick McIntosh!”’ “Major Traill, at any rate, makes the most of him. Likes to have the old fellow up there to dinner: invited some of the mess to meet him. Lloyd and Traill were the only Englishmen at table. Lloyd proposed, ‘Scotia: Her bard and Chief: Ossian and The McIntosh!’ Rory was delighted. Got upon his legs — a performance just then — and said: ‘Gentlemen, | gie ye the health o’ Colonel Francis Lloyd, o’ His Majesty’s service. Could that brave officer and gallant gentleman look to-day intil “the low- browed caverns o’ my ancestors,’ he wad there behold, wi his own twa een, the Genius o’ Liberty guarded by the ghaists o’ the McIntoshes!’” The Englishman laughed aloud. “Upon my word, I shall have to cultivate Rory!” Meantime Rory was directing his linkboy: “ Dinna gang that gait, chuckle-head. Gang aroond the corner o’ the CORNICLOO cS (C@) mn